


An Avengers Wedding

by ScribbleWiggy



Series: The 'It Gets Worse!' Universe (Earth-293156) [3]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Bruce Banner & Tony Stark Friendship, Burce Banner/Natasha Romanov Wedding, Canon Divergence - Avengers: Infinity War Part 1 (Movie), Clint Barton & Natasha Romanov Friendship, F/M, M/M, Not Avengers: Endgame (Movie) Compliant, Peter Parker in Love, Post-Avengers: Infinity War Part 1 (Movie), Steve Rogers Is a Good Bro, The Avengers Are Good Bros, Thor (Marvel) is a Good Bro, Tony Stark Is a Good Bro, or was i supposed to find that out from an ao3 tag myself?, was anyone gonna tell me that clint and laura named their son after pietro
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-19
Updated: 2019-10-19
Packaged: 2020-11-27 01:02:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,854
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20939714
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ScribbleWiggy/pseuds/ScribbleWiggy
Summary: It isn't the wedding that everyone wanted in Endgame, but at least it's actually happening. Imagine the Monica/Chandler wedding from "Friends" but with the Avengers and nobody's pregnant. That's pretty much what's happening here.





	An Avengers Wedding

**August 21st, 2023**

“Are you almost ready?” Peter asked, running past the bathroom, which Cheri had occupied for the last ten minutes. “I really want to pee before we head over there!” 

Cheri smiled at herself in the mirror, looking over at him as he paused in the doorway, folding his collar down over the tie he planned to wear. “I’m glad we’re close enough that you don’t mind telling me about your urinary movements,” she said. 

Peter did not respond, and Cheri lifted an eyebrow. “What’s the matter?” she asked. 

He opened his mouth to speak, to tell her there was absolutely nothing wrong, just that she had managed to dry up all his saliva, now that he stood looking at her for real. She wore a purple dress that stopped maybe an inch above her knees, and was tight all the way down. Every single one of her curves was accentuated in the thing, and Peter was, appropriately, speechless. 

Cheri came to this conclusion on her own, and her smile returned, the soft one with the dimples. Peter’s favorite. She stepped closer to him, taking the tie from his slack hands, a did a half Windsor knot for him. She then patted his chest, and moved out of his way. 

“Go pee,” she said, pausing to press a kiss to his cheek. “Ned and I will be waiting.” 

Peter managed to gather his senses once she was out of view. “Don’t let Ned carry the cake!” he called after her, ducking into the bathroom. 

Cheri chuckled, and poked her head into the fridge, where she’d nestled the boxes that held the three layers of the cake she’d made for Bruce and Natasha’s wedding. She planned to build the cake itself once they made it to the wedding location, which was some private ballroom that Tony had arranged for the ceremony and the reception. It wasn’t going to be a large affair, after all; just Nat and Bruce’s closest friends. Still, Cheri knew it would be a beautiful wedding, and a kick-ass reception. 

Ned, who’d been dressed for almost an hour, moved to help her take one of the boxes, but she offered him a look. He put up his hands in resignation and backed away again. The toilet flushed, the sink ran, and Peter hurried into the main room of the apartment, his hair a bit flyaway, but otherwise handsome as could be in his deep blue button-up. 

“Great,” he said, and he took two of the boxes from Cheri. “Let’s head out.” 

The three of them exited the apartment, Ned locking the door behind him. Cheri could feel the strap of one of her heels already acting up, and she mentally cursed at it.  _ Not today, shoe, please. _

They made it safely down the stairs, without losing any of the layers of cake along the way, and Peter carefully nestled the boxes into the back seat of Cheri’s Honda. Cheri took her purse from Ned, and moved around to the driver’s side. 

“You’re wearing heels,” Peter argued, and Cheri shot him a look over the roof of the car. 

“You’re nuts if you think I’m letting you drive, especially with my cake in the back seat,” she told him, and then, in a scarily accurate Eddie Murphy impression, said, “Head ‘em up, move ‘em on, Rawhide!” 

Ned grinned at Peter, who merely shook his head and slid into the passenger seat, while Ned took up sentry position next to the boxes of cake. He placed an arm protectively in front of them, to ensure they wouldn’t slide, and buckled his seat belt one handed. 

“Let’s go!” he exclaimed, causing Cheri to wince, slightly. Peter smirked, and rolled down the window as Cheri pulled away from the curb, reaching over to crank up the radio. 

“Yes!” Cheri shouted out her own window. “Hell yeah! Wedding!” 

“Wedding!” Peter yelled in agreement. In the seat behind them, Ned began to wail along to the song that played on the radio. 

_ “Don’t you remember? We built this city -  _

_ We built this city on rock and roll!” _

Peter and Cheri joined in with him, none of them singing on key whatsoever. In fact, they mostly screeched the lyrics as loudly as possible, and Peter knew they’d regret it later on, but hey, who cared? They had a wedding to get to, everyone was in a good mood, and he felt like screeching. They all did. 

Following directions that Mr. Stark had helpfully coded into Peter's phone beforehand, they were able to make it to the ballroom in record time. Cheri sped, a little, but Peter wasn’t going to fault her for it, considering they had cake in the back that needed to be returned to a cold environment as quickly as possible. 

Cheri drove around the ballroom to the back entrance. There, she switched places in the driver’s seat with Ned, while Peter pulled the cake boxes out of the back of the Honda. Cheri directed Ned to find a parking space, and then she joined Peter on the stairs leading into the building. 

The entrance they passed through led them straight into the kitchen of the place, and Cheri immediately moved towards one of the massive refrigerators. She pulled it open; a blast of cold air burst from it, chilling the both of them. She smiled, pleased, and then gestured for Peter to put the boxes down on one of the many counters. 

“Gotta wash my hands,” she murmured, moving to a sink to do that. “You can go ahead and head up front, if you want.”

“What, you don’t want my help?” Peter asked her, only half joking. The look Cheri gave him made him wish it had been a full joke, however, and he submissively dipped his head and ducked out of the kitchen through a swinging door. He almost ran right into Tony, who was rushing towards the kitchen. 

“Oh, hey, kid,” he greeted. “Good, you’re here. Cheri’s putting the cake together?” 

“Yep,” Peter replied. “Ned’s finding a place to park. Is anyone else here yet?” 

“Yeah, literally everyone,” Tony responded. “You’re actually kind of late, but that’s all right, you’re here now. Come on.”

He ushered Peter ahead of him back the way he’d come from, and they walked down a short hallway to a large set of double doors. Peter held out his hands, pushing them open for the both of them to walk through, and was greeted by a massive space, with ceilings that extended dozens of feet into the air. About six rows of benches had been set up, facing what seemed to be a stage of some kind, no doubt used by live bands during gatherings, and the benches were pretty full up, with people that Peter recognized. 

That was one good thing, he supposed, about Nat and Bruce’s closest friends and family; Peter knew all of them, too, because they were also  _ his  _ closest friends and family. For the most part. 

Tony bounced up and down on his toes next to him for a moment, clearly at a loss for what to do next. Peter smiled to himself, seeing how seriously his mentor was taking the role of Bruce’s best man, and he reached out, placing a hand on Tony’s shoulder. 

“Shouldn’t Mr. Barton be the one reacting like this?” he asked, and Tony shook his head. 

“The groom was more stressed about the wedding than the bride; thus, all the wedding day responsibilities that would normally fall onto the maid of honor have fallen onto the best man.” He checked his watch, cursed to himself. “Of course, when it comes to the _ one job  _ I gave said maid of honor, he fails to do it in a timely manner.” 

Tony stalked off, lifting his phone to his ear and speaking into it with a clipped tone. Peter thought he heard Natasha’s name come up, and decided it probably had something to do with her getting ready. 

Peter smiled to himself, again, and moved towards the benches, hoping to find a spot empty enough for him, Cheri, and Ned to fit. 

He found Ned, first, and saw that his friend had thankfully claimed a spot on a bench near the middle, and had dropped Cheri’s purse near the edge, leaving some space between him and it to hold a couple seats. 

“Nice,” Peter said, sinking down into said empty space. He brushed his hands against his thighs, and glanced around. He spotted Steve and Bucky sitting up a row and a few people down. Sam sat near them, and Scott Lang leaned over the bench in front of them, speaking to all three. Rhodey sat down the bench aways from Scott, frowning at Tony, who was currently trying to rearrange a few of the empty benches on his own. After a moment Rhodey stood and went to help him. 

Peter saw Wanda near the back, and frowned slightly at the blond man sitting beside her, before connecting two and two together and realizing that it was probably Vision. He smiled to himself, glad that they’d chosen to come, and faced forward again. He’d sort of gotten over the whole “I’m in a room with dozens of superheroes” thing a while ago. 

Ned, however, was hyperventilating next to him. Peter almost felt as though he needed to get up and find his friend a bag to breathe into. Before he could make up his mind on whether on not to actually do that, Cheri appeared. She picked up her purse, and sank down beside him, exhaling heavily. A curl that hung in her eyes fluttered. Peter reached over and moved it behind her ear for her. 

“Cheri! Cheri, look at all these people!” Ned exclaimed. “There’s, like, ex-SHIELD in here.”

Peter saw Cheri tense, and she sat up a bit straighter, looking around the room. He frowned a little at this, and touched her arm. “What’s up?” he asked. 

She glanced at him, and seemed to realize she was making a face. Her expression relaxed, as did her shoulders. “Nothing,” she said. “My grandfather used to work for SHIELD. So did my mother. I told you that, didn’t I?” 

“Yeah, I think so,” Peter said, although he really had no recollection of such a conversation occurring between the two of them, ever. 

They could talk more about it after the wedding, though. It wasn’t a top priority for him, not now. 

“There’s Doctor Banner,” Cheri said, pointing, and Peter sat up a bit straighter so he could clearly see the stage that the benches faced. Indeed, Bruce stood on the stage itself in a nice black tux, his hands in the pockets of his slacks. After a second, Tony appeared beside him, and they exchanged a few words before Tony moved off again, disappearing through a set of double doors behind the stage itself. 

“Huh,” Ned started, and Peter looked over at him instead. His friend frowned, and gestured. “There’s no aisle, between the benches,” he said. 

Peter saw what he said was true; all of the benches were crowded together, leaving no space in the middle of them for the bride to walk down. 

“That is weird,” Cheri said from Peter’s other side. She then laughed. “Maybe she’ll descend from the ceiling.” 

“What, like Gaga at Super Bowl LI?” Ned asked, and Cheri shrugged. “Doubt.” 

Natasha did not descend from the ceiling, nor did she walk through the benches to reach the stage. Instead, she came through the double doors Tony had gone through, holding onto Clint’s arm. Both of them were smiling, and the crowd fell silent, as soon as enough people noticed them. Tony had appeared, again, and stood to Bruce’s right. Both of them watched Clint and Natasha approach where they were, and Peter saw Bruce’s shoulders rise and fall. Tony reached out, patted one of them, and Bruce placed his hand over his for a brief moment. 

Peter noticed Steve stand, and move towards the group on the stage. His heart swelled a little in his chest when he saw Steve pull some papers out of the pocket inside his suit jacket. 

“He’s  _ officiating!”  _ Cheri exclaimed under her breath. “I can’t believe! It’s just like  _ Friends,  _ when Chandler and Monica got married.”

Ned let out a soft sigh. “If only Thor were here.”

As though the words had been some sort of summoning spell, a sound like a crack of thunder filled the ballroom. In a flash of colorful lightning, a beam burst through the ceiling nearby, sending different debris crumbling to the floor. Peter blinked as Thor emerged from the smokey aftermath, dressed accordingly for a wedding. He brushed some rubble off of his shoulder, and looked towards the group on the stage. 

“I hope you weren’t planning on starting without me,” he said, smiling and walking towards the stage. 

Tony cursed at him. “You expect me to pay for that?” he asked, gesturing to the ceiling. 

“I’m sure you don’t mind,” Thor replied, patting him on the shoulder. He then shook Bruce’s hand, and Natasha actually let him give her a brief hug. Next to Peter, Ned bounced a little in his seat. 

“Now  _ this  _ is an Avengers wedding!” he said. 

Cheri’s prediction of the wedding being beautiful proved to be true, and, with the help of several of the guests, the benches were quickly cleared away after Steve formally pronounced Bruce and Nat husband and wife. With the benches out of the way, a dance floor was opened up where they had been. The guests then migrated to the other side of the room, where round tables had been arranged. 

Food of all kind, catered most likely, was carted in, and set down on a long buffet table against one wall. The hot dishes were placed over heated pads, and there were plenty of vegetarian options to choose from, along with the more popular meat-based meals. Peter and Cheri carried in the cake she’d made, decorated in ivory frosting, decaled with delicate swirls that made the whole thing look like it was covered in lace. 

“You did good,” Peter said, after they’d set the cake down on a smaller, square table near the rest of the food, and Cheri bumped his arm with her shoulder, smiling. 

Once the transition had been made, the party began. Peter had never been to a wedding reception, and so he had nothing to compare it to, but he imagined this would have been his favorite. It was all very casual; Tony had wired up the speakers in the room to his phone, and a playlist he had created with Cheri’s help played constantly, none of the songs ever repeating. Guests would dance, would retire to the round tables, drink champagne or lemonade or water, eat a little something, and then they would head back to the dance floor. 

Peter sat in a chair at a table with Ned and Cheri, smiling to himself. He liked a wedding, he decided. 

Natasha and Bruce had taken up seats at a long table closer to the stage. Clint and Tony sat next to them on either side, although more often than not, Tony was out of his seat, darting around the room like a bee to different flowers, to check on guests, make sure everyone was enjoying themselves. 

“Hey, guys,” he greeted, pausing next to Peter’s table. He sounded a bit winded. “Having a good time?” 

“Yes,” Cheri told him. “You should try to do that, too, maybe.”

Tony waved his hand in the air dismissively. “I’m having a great time,” he told her. “Seriously. Nothing thrills me more than running a wedding.”

Across the room, Clint’s kids started to throw hummus at one another, laughing and shouting as they did so. Their mother Laura rushed away from the conversation she’d been having with Natasha at the head table to stop the shenanigans, Clint already vaulting over the table himself to do the same. 

Peter saw Tony’s eye twitch. “Yep,” he said, his voice a bit tighter, now. “Nothing thrills me more.”

He walked away, muttering about Asgardians and their absurd entrances. Peter grinned, and looked at Cheri, ready to make a joke, but realized her attention was focused on something else entirely. He turned to follow her gaze, and saw it was locked on Nick Fury. 

“Oh,” he said, surprised. “Huh. I knew he and Nat were close, but I honestly didn’t expect him to be here.” 

“Hm.” It was neither a noise of agreement or disagreement, and Peter furrowed his brow. 

“You’ve met him before?” he asked. 

“Not really,” Cheri answered, leaning back in her chair. 

Fury finished speaking to a pair of people who were standing near the food table, and he turned to look out over the rest of the wedding attendees. Peter straightened, slightly, when he felt his gaze land on their table. He hadn’t spoken to Fury in literal ages, and he did not want to start again now. 

Still, that didn’t stop the ex-director of SHIELD from making his way towards the table, moving casually, like he had all the time in the world. Peter subconsciously reached for Cheri’s hand, and relaxed a little when he found it beneath the table. 

“Mr. Parker,” Fury said, stopping next to the table. “Been a while.”

“Yeah,” Peter replied. He tilted his head in Ned’s direction. “You know my friend Ned.”

“I do,” Fury said. “Hello again, Mr. Leeds.”

Ned lifted a hand, looking a little shell-shocked that Nick Fury had chosen to approach their table, out of all of the others he could have picked. 

Peter then tilted his head toward Cheri. “And this is my girlfriend, Cheryl Schultz.”

Fury’s mouth quirked up a bit at the corner. “Girlfriend, huh?” he asked, and Cheri inhaled, pulling her hand from Peter’s in order to offer it across the table towards him. 

“Good to meet you, sir,” she said. 

“And you,” Fury replied, and after a moment, shook her hand. “I knew your grandfather, didn’t I? Benito?” 

Cheri nodded. “He was an agent until 2014.” She paused. “And my mother worked for SHIELD when I was younger, too. Isabel?” 

“Ah, yes,” Fury said, nodding. “I remember her. Your grandfather was a good agent, did great work in the field in his younger days.” He glanced between her and Peter. “How did the two of you meet?” 

“College,” Peter said, deciding to jump back into the conversation while there was still a chance he could, before he became hopelessly lost. “My friend Harry introduced us, and we kind of just… didn’t stop talking, afterwards?” 

“He followed me to the library, after about a month,” Cheri said. “Said he needed help with a paper for one of his classes that Harry said I could help him with. He did not need help, and Harry definitely didn’t point him in my direction.”

Peter smiled a little at the memory. “I just wanted an excuse to hang out with you without Harry and Ned around,” he told her, and then he looked at Fury again. “We’ve been dating for a year now.”

“Interesting,” Fury said, and there was something in his eye that Peter couldn’t necessarily give a name to. “Well, I hope you kids enjoy the rest of the wedding. Perhaps we’ll talk later.”

“Good to see you again, sir,” Ned said, his voice cracking a bit. Fury barely reacted to this, already turning and walking away from them. 

Once he was out of sight, Ned let out a sharp exhalation, and sank down in his chair, pulling at his tie. “I need a drink,” he muttered.

“Yeah, let’s go get one,” Cheri agreed, standing up from her chair. She grabbed Ned’s arm and dragged him along with her towards the drink table, leaving Peter to stare after them, wondering what the hell that had been about. 

He shook his head.  _ Nope. Not thinking about it right now. Wedding. Party. Fun.  _

He picked at the grilled cheese sandwich he’d designed for himself at the food table, electing not to eat the crust, before he looked around at the wedding again. He spotted Cheri and Ned on the dance floor, now, kicking their heels to the Carly Rae Jepsen song that currently played. 

Peter smiled to himself, seeing the obvious difference in their rhythmic capabilities. Ned was like the Jennifer Grey to Cheri’s Patrick Swayze. Peter found it hilarious, but had to give Ned props for trying to keep up with her. He laughed when Ned spun in a circle, and managed to stumble over his own feet, leaving Cheri to quickly reach out and steady him.

They both laughed together, and the song ended. Ned hobbled over to the food table, and Cheri returned to where Peter sat, settling down in her chair again. He could hear her heartbeat, increased from the dancing. She inhaled, slowly, and then let out the breath, even slower. 

“Ned’s something else,” she said at last. 

“Yeah, he’s got two left feet,” Peter agreed. “I’m surprised you convinced him to dance with you.” 

Cheri smiled. “He’ll do anything after a tequila shot,” she said, and Peter followed her gaze towards Tony, where he stood at the head table, poking through his phone, a crease between his brows. “It seems like everyone is having a good time.”

“Has Mr. Stark drank anything? Like, not alcohol, but just… in general?” Peter asked, and Cheri lifted her shoulders. Peter sighed to himself, and relaxed back in his chair. He’d need to get some water in Tony’s hand, at some point. He’d drink it if he was holding it. 

Their thoughts being based around him must have sparked some type of psychic connection in Tony’s mind, because he stepped away from the table, grabbing something off of the edge of it as he went. Peter saw after a moment that it was a wireless microphone. Tony tapped on it, and the sound reverberated around the room. 

“Hey, hey!” Tony started, once he knew the mic worked. The sounds of the wedding goers fell to a quiet murmur, as most of them turned their attention toward him. “Everybody having a good time?” he asked. 

The group cheered in response, and Tony smiled to himself. “Great! The last thing I want to do is interrupt everyone’s fun, but it’s kind of for a good reason, and I think everyone can take a minute to sit down and relax while we do this next bit.”

He paused, and then gestured vaguely. “I read online somewhere that it’s tradition at a wedding for the bride and groom to share a first dance to a song of their choice. Now, half of  _ this  _ particular bride and groom pairing had absolutely no interest in sharing a first dance, while the other half seemed amenable to the idea, so long as the song wasn’t terrible.” 

Peter chuckled along with everyone else who sat at the tables, watching as Nat rolled her eyes, and Bruce patted her hand with his own. 

Tony grinned, and went on, “As such,” he said, “through secret means that I have been sworn to never reveal, I was able to choose a song that doesn’t classify as ‘terrible’, and am pleased to announce that Bruce and Natasha  _ will  _ be dancing together today.”

“No, we will not be,” Natasha replied, speaking up to be heard, even as Bruce stood up, her hand in his. She shook her head at him. “No, Bruce.”

“Aw, c’mon, Nat!” Tony called. “Give your husband this one thing!” 

“You think I don’t give him other things?” Natasha returned. 

“Come on!” Tony insisted, and then he turned towards the guests, waving his hand to encourage them to join as he started to chant, “Nat, Nat, Nat, Nat…”

“Nat! Nat! Nat!” The wedding goers picked up the chant themselves, and, after a long moment during which Natasha looked somewhere between murderous and exasperated, she allowed Bruce to pull her to her feet. Everyone cheered as Bruce led her around the table and to the middle of the dance floor. Peter saw Clint with his phone raised, ready to record, and knew Natasha would be deleting that footage before the day was over. 

“All right,” Tony said. “Sharing their first dance, Dr. and Mrs. Bruce Banner!” 

He tapped at his phone, and the lights in the room dimmed, a spotlight shooting down from the ceiling onto Natasha and Bruce. Music began to play, and Peter smiled when he recognized the song. He watched Bruce tug Natasha closer, placing his hands on her waist. Nat’s eventually landed on his shoulders, and the two of them swayed back and forth, turning in a slow circle as the Bee Gees started to sing. 

__ “I know your eyes in the morning sun.   
__ I feel you touch me in the pouring rain.   
_ And the moment that you wander far from me,   
_ __ I want to feel you in my arms again.”

Bruce gestured with one of his hands for other couples to join them, after the first verse concluded. Peter glanced around as others began to approach the dance floor. Steve and Bucky were among them, Bucky looking just the tiniest bit mortified as Steve tugged him along after him. 

Peter smiled to himself, then felt a hand on his arm. He turned his head to see it was Cheri. She’d slid her hand around his bicep, and was smiling to herself as she watched the dancing couples. After a second, her head fell against his shoulder, and Peter leaned his own against it. 

“You want to dance?” he murmured to her, and Cheri nodded. “Yeah? All right, come on.” 

He stood, and offered his hand to her. Cheri smiled up at him, and took it. He helped her stand, and then led her to the dance floor. Cheri slid her arms around his shoulders, and Peter place his own around her waist. Cheri smiled at him as they started their own turn around the dance floor. Peter’s heart swelled. 

__ “How deep is your love, how deep is your love?   
__ How deep is your love?   
__ I really mean to learn.   
__ ‘Cause we’re living in a world of fools,   
_ Breaking us down when they all should let us be.   
_ __ We belong to you and me.”

“You’re a better dancer than Ned,” Cheri said, and Peter let out a laugh. 

“Gee, thanks. Heavy praise.” 

Cheri chortled, and Peter squeezed the hand he held, meeting her eyes. She raised an eyebrow. “What?” 

“I just… I don’t know. I’m really happy.” 

“You deserve to be,” Cheri told him, smiling, “so I’m glad.” 

__ “And you come to me on a summer breeze.   
_ Keep me warm in your love,   
_ __ Then you softly leave.”

“Are you happy?” Peter asked, and she shook her head. 

“Of course I am.” 

“Okay, good,” Peter said, and they spun around again. “I love you.” 

“I love you, too, Peter,” Cheri replied, smiling. 

__ “I really mean to learn.   
__ ‘Cause we’re living in a world of fools,   
_ Break us down, we they all should let us be.   
_ __ We belong to you and me.”

The song ended, and couples stopped dancing, all grinning goofily at one another. Peter was no exception, and he smiled at Cheri as she bent down to adjust the strap of her heel. 

“Sorry,” she said. “Twisted, y’know?” She straightened back up, met his gaze as another song started. “What?”

“How beautiful you are,” Peter replied, quietly, and she snorted. 

“Don’t go quoting  _ Bohemian Rhapsody  _ and think I won’t know,” she teased. “Come on, I want some more food.” 

She walked away, leaving Peter where he was. He blinked a few times, actually sort of having forgotten where he was, and jumped a bit when Tony suddenly appeared at his side, flinging an arm around his shoulders. 

“Having fun?” he asked, and Peter smiled a bit. 

“Yeah. Are you drinking water?” 

Tony rolled his eyes. “Yes, Dad,” he said. Peter snorted. Tony patted his shoulder. “Hope you’re not getting any ideas.” 

“No, not yet.” Peter blanched as soon as he finished speaking, and quickly said, “I - I mean -“

Tony, however, grinned, and he gave Peter a wink. “Let her graduate first,” he suggested, “and then maybe you can start thinking about it for real.” He glanced in the direction Cheri had gone, and then looked back at Peter. “But uh… I think you’ve gotten past the toughest step.” 

“Which is?”

“Finding the person you want to marry, duh,” Tony said, grinning, and then he walked away again, towards Ned, who leaned back against a table, looking ready to fall asleep. Too much alcohol, Peter guessed. 

He watched Tony go, and then his eyes found Cheri again. She seemed to feel his gaze, because she looked up from the buffet of food and over at him. She grinned, and held up a small glass, filled with a bright green substance. 

“Jello Shots!” she said, just loud enough that he’d be able to hear her without trying. Peter grinned back, and moved to join her. 

**Author's Note:**

> Hey guys! Don't we love an interlude between bigger stories? I think this one was a very good bridge to connect 'It Gets Worse!' to the next installment of the 'It Gets Worse!' Universe, 'Better All The Time', which'll kick off soon, and begin shortly timeline-wise after this very wedding. There's no DnD campaign in it, unfortunately, but it's just as good as the actual DnD campaign, if not better. 
> 
> King of playing with the idea of starting another campaign, though. Maybe not strictly at DnD campaign, but... along those lines of tabletop, roleplaying game type, y'know? We'll see. 
> 
> Anyway, catch you in 'Better All The Time', because things really _ are _ getting better all the time.


End file.
